


Advances

by Tokyo_the_Glaive



Series: Tumblr Shorts [1]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Fluff, James Bond Being James Bond, M/M, Poor Q, Shameless James Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 21:21:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6582865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tokyo_the_Glaive/pseuds/Tokyo_the_Glaive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of the many, many questions Q had never expected to ask anyone, the one that had just passed his lips was perhaps amongst the most unexpected of them all.</p><p>“Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Advances

**Author's Note:**

> I don't remember why I wrote this, but here, have some James Bond being James Bond and Q suffering the consequences.

“Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?”

Of the many, _many_ questions Q had never expected to ask anyone, the one that had just passed his lips was perhaps amongst the most unexpected of them all.

Bond had the sheer audacity to smile.

“Do I need one?”

“Absolutely,” Q said definitively.  Repeated, for emphasis: “You _absolutely_ need a reason _._ ”

Bond crossed his legs.  Q considered calling him out on the uncharacteristic modesty, but then again, Bond was _naked_ in _Q’s bed_ and had been rather openly sprawled until Q walked in.  The _window_ was open, for Christ’s sake, and Q didn’t live so far from ground to prevent just anyone from looking in.Modesty had clearly come and gone. It had probably taken Bond’s clothes and Q’s sanity with it when it left.

As if to solidify the absurdity of the situation, the curtains fluttered slightly.Q heard a siren in the distance.

“Dreadfully sorry, Q,” Bond said.  Q thought that he might have been trying for contrite.Q’s head swam, and he found he couldn’t look away.  “I’m afraid there’s been something of a mix-up.”

“Do tell.”  Q leaned against the wall in the doorway to his own bedroom.It had the dual purpose of making him look nonchalant—which he wasn’t—and holding him up—because his legs were threatening to give way.

Bond smiled.  “I’m afraid it’s a long story.”

Q smiled right back, though with substantially less warmth, and watched Bond’s grin fade in turn.  “I have time,” Q said.

“Perhaps I could—” Bond gestured at the sheets.

“By all means.”

Bond slid under the sheets.  Why he hadn’t done it in the first place was an utter mystery.

The silence dragged as Bond failed to say another word.

“Well?” Q asked.

Bond _fidgeted_.  The more Q saw, the less anything made the slightest bit of sense.

“Are you under duress, 007?” Q asked gingerly.  “Was this some sort of ill-conceived wager?If so, I can inform—”

“No,” Bond said.  My God, was he blushing?  “No.”

Q sighed.  “Right.  Explain yourself then, else I turn you out naked as the day you were born into the streets.”

“You wouldn’t do that.”

“No?” Q asked.  He wondered to himself.  Mallory would shoot him, or fire him.“I suppose not.  But I will throw you out if you don’t start talking sooner rather than later, and it won’t be pleasant.”

Q wasn’t bluffing.  He hoped Bond caught onto that.  All he wanted to do was collapse in his own bed _by himself, thank you very much_ and get some much-needed sleep.  The universe clearly had different ideas about how he would be spending his night, however, and he rather wanted to know why.

Bond swallowed.  “Full disclosure, then,” he said.

Q couldn’t suppress a chuckle.  “I believe we’ve already had that.”  A grin briefly lit up Bond’s face.  “Carry on.”

“Full disclosure,” Bond repeated, slightly more comfortable than he was before.  “To be frank, your reaction wasn’t precisely what I had in mind.”

“Of course,” Q said, then _what_.  He was suddenly grateful that he had propped himself against the doorframe as he took in a deep breath, held it, then: “ _What._ ”

“You know, I think I’ll be leaving now.”

“ _007_.”

“Definitely leaving.”

Bond stood, letting the sheet fall away from his body.  Q watched shamelessly, aware that his ears were probably burning.

“007,” Q repeated ineffectually.  Bond was walking across the room, toward— “That’s the shower, Bond.”

“Really,” Bond said, voice dry.At least he was _speaking_.

“What the bloody hell are you playing at?” Q asked, sighing.Bond didn’t respond, and Q forced his eyes shut as Bond retrieved his clothes from where they were scattered across the tiles about the sink, certainly wrinkled and possibly damp.  Had he _showered_ in here while Q was gone?How long had he been here?

A light went on in Q’s head.

“Oh,” Q said.

“Leaving,” Bond muttered, pulling on a sock.

“You thought I was going to swoon into your arms,” Q said.  “That I’d see you naked in _my_ _bed_ with no bloody idea how you got here and just fall into bed with you.”

Q heard something about “misreading the situation”.   _Damn right_.

Bond stood, fully—mostly—dressed.His shirt, though buttoned, hung crooked across his shoulders, and he’d slung his tie around his neck.The burning in Q’s ears refused to subside.

“Quartermaster,” Bond said, “if you would show me to the door with what remains of my pride.”

Q rubbed his eyes behind his glasses.  “This isn’t my life,” he murmured.  Louder, he said, “I’m not sure if that tactic has ever worked for you, but I favor the traditional approach.”

“Do you, now.”

Q looked at Bond to find a calculating look in his eye.

“That I do,” Q said.  “I hope you know how ridiculous this is for me.How did you even get _in_ here?”

“It isn’t my fault—”

“This is certainly your fault,” Q interjected.

“—you’ve ignored all my advances.”

Q’s eyebrows shot up.

Bond sighed.  “You didn’t notice.I’m aware.”

“Advances?” Q asked.  “Are you referring to the manner in which you return broken equipment to my desk like a cat bringing in dead rats?”  Bond pushed passed him.  “I joke, it was in poor taste.  007.”  Bond showed no signs of stopping his beeline for the door.  “Bond.   _Bond_.”

Bond stopped, and after a moment, he turned to face Q.He looked rather like he had been sentenced to hard labor, or a meeting with M.

“Much better,” Q said.  “Now let’s discuss this like adults, shall we?”  Bond’s mouth opened, but Q shook his head and tutted.  “No, no, let’s not, actually,” he said.  “How about this: you buy me a drink, and then we talk.”

Bond’s eyes lit up.  “I accept your proposal.”

“Good,” Q said.  He’d be lying if he ever claimed his eyes didn’t drift a little lower than would be deemed societally acceptable.  He had, of course, just had the view of his life.  He absolutely— _absolutely_ —intended to see it again.  “Good,” he repeated.

Bond licked his lips.  Perhaps they wouldn’t get a drink after all.


End file.
